Terror at 40,000 Feet
by Matthew Penn
Summary: Clyde McBride is convinced a monster only he can see is trying to destroy the airplane he and his parents are on, and takes desperate measures to save the lives of every passenger on board.


Clyde McBride never liked flying. It was one of many things that made him nervous, especially after last night when he had a nightmare about being killed in a fiery explosion. During the bus ride to the airport he thought about the ways the flight could go wrong.

The McBrides were greeted by a stewardess at the door. A friendly smile seemed stapled to her face. She looked down to Clyde and told him to enjoy his flight. He tried to return the favor, but he only nodded and was on his way.

The cabin became full of passengers just as the McBrides arrived. One of Clyde's parents - Harold, a stout black man, placed their briefcases and handbags inside the shelves above them. Clyde opened his backpack to take out some Ace Savvy comic books for reading material. He took his seat next to the window when he discovered he was also next to the emergency exit. This made him feel uncomfortable. He stared at it for so long he hadn't noticed when his other father, a thin white man named Howard, called out to him.

"Clyde, honey, are you alright?" asked Howard.

Clyde snapped back to reality, turning away from the medium-size door to his father. "I'm fine," he answered. "Any reason why we're so close to the emergency door?"

"Well, we have to be close to the nearest exit in case of an emergency. You'd never know what can happen," Howard explained.

Harold looked over to his young son. He had that worried look on his face when he heard something that bothered him. Harold shook his head, wondering why his husband would be so blunt to their easily frightened child. He leaned over to Clyde, placing a soft hand on top of his.

"You have nothing to worry about. Statistically speaking, flying is the safest way to travel. We will all be just fine."

Harold gave Clyde a reassuring smile. The boy felt a little better, although he couldn't shake the notion of something going wrong. He glanced at the exit, fearing he may open it by accident if he wasn't careful.

The engines of the plane revved up. From out the window Clyde can see mechanics under the wing, all of them the size of ants, making sure everything was in working condition before it rolled down the runway. The wheels moved, the plane increased in speed as each moment passed. Clyde felt himself being lifted up. He looked out the window once more. The earth became smaller and smaller until there was nothing by an expanse of dark blue and a setting sun above the clouds.

Sunset gave way to the dark and stars. The electric lights on the plane illuminated the inside and outside. Clyde was still nervous about the sitting for hours while flying through the air; he decided to take his mind off things by reading his comics. All was well until he stumbled across a scene of a villain terrorizing passengers on an airplane. He chose not to continue to the next page. He wasn't that interested to know what happens next.

He leaped in his seat by a streak of light from outside, followed by an ominous rumble. He looked out the window. A bright, white flare exploded in the dark clouds. Clyde caught the attention of the stewardess, the same one who greeted the McBrides at the door.

"Excuse me," he asked timidly, "are we heading into a storm?"

"Just a small thunderstorm from the weather report. It shouldn't last long," she answered.

That smile looked as though it hadn't left her face at any point. The stewardess asked Clyde if he needed anything, which he answered by shaking his head. He watched her go elsewhere. By the way she carried herself, how she walked and her overall appearance, he would've mistaken her for Leni Loud.

He looked over to his parents. The two men had drifted off to sleep. Once again he tried to think of other things, to keep his mind away from the storm. It shouldn't be that bad, he thought to himself. The stewardess said it's only a small one. Then he imagined the storm growing worse, the plane going through turbulence, and. . .

Clyde shook his head. Don't think about that, he told himself. His father and the stewardess said it; he has nothing to worry about. He repeated it as his mantra as rain splashed on the window. Clyde wondered how the pilot can see in the dark during inclement weather. Surely the plane had to be equipped with a windshield wiper. It wouldn't make sense not to. He turned to the window to watch the rain fall against the black sky.

He decided to finish reading that Ace Savvy storyline. As he figured, the villain brought the airplane down, killing everyone along with a familiar supporting character in the Ace Savvy series.

Clyde had never mentioned it to Lincoln, but he never enjoyed the new direction Ace Savvy was going when Bill Buck retired as head writer. Seeing that explosion somehow increased his anxiety, so he put the comic down.

He looked out the window, and just as lightning struck the cold air he something had landed on the wing. Did a bird just settle down during a storm like this? Clyde leaned forward to get a closer look at the wing.

Lightning struck across the dark storm, and Clyde saw. . . something.

It was a man.

He wasn't sure if he was seeing things. He wiped his glasses for any smudges and smears, then put them on his face again. The man. . . whoever it was, remained. The shadowy figure walked across the wing, neither stumbling or falling, not even as the wind threatened to carry him away.

Clyde stared at the man from his seat. What is he doing out there? Is he one of the engine mechanics? How is he standing and walking with ease? So many questions ran through the young boy's mind. His heart stopped beating for a moment when the man looked directly at him.

He frantically press the button above him. The same stewardess from before approached; that uncanny smile remained stitched to her face. "May I help you sweetie?" she asked.

Clyde pointed his finger at the window. "There's a man outside!" he said in a loud voice.

For the first time since she'd seen her, the smile on the stewardess dropped into a confused frown. "A man?" she asked.

"Yes! Look!"

His outburst had caught the attention of most of the passengers. Even his sleeping parents had been rudely awoken by his voice. The first thing they saw was their son pointing at the window.

"What's the matter?" asked Harold.

"There's a man out there! I've seen him! Look, he's right there on the. . ."

His words trailed off. Clyde held a long gaze at the wing. The strange man had vanished. Impossible. He was standing right there, on the wing, almost as clear as day. He. . . or it, looked straight at him. Clyde turned to face the adults; they all gave Clyde blank stares.

The stewardess broke the awkward silence by asking if they needed anything. Her enthusiastic nature had been lost at the moment.

Harold and Howard shook their heads. "A glass of water," said Clyde.

The stewardess smiled, a little one this time, and walked away.

"What was that about?" asked Harold.

"I. . . I thought I saw someone. . . something outside," Clyde stammered.

Howard, being the closest to him, leaned toward the window. There was nothing outside except for pouring rain and darkness, along with the electric lights of the wing. He looked at Clyde with an eyebrow raised. The boy couldn't remember a time he'd been so bewildered.

"I think you may have had a bad dream," said Howard. "I wonder if there's any herbal tea mix on this plane."

The stewardess returned with a plastic cup of water. Clyde silently thanked her as she walked away. He took small sips, then heard Harold asking him if he needed a softer pillow to lie on. "No thanks," he said. Clyde brought down the window sheet.

He kept his thoughts on the strange man outside, even as his parents drifted off. It just didn't make sense. He swore he saw something on the wing. Whatever it was, it took steps across. Clyde and the figure acknowledged each other. Although it was too dark to see; the thunderstorm obscuring his vision despite the electric lights, he knew it had a shape. Clyde couldn't have imagined it.

On the other hand, what if he was seeing things? Had he closed his eyes and found himself in such a surreal dream? That could be a possibility. Perhaps his anxiety about flying through a thunderstorm at high altitudes had made his mind project an image that was a manifestation of his fear. If Dr. Lopez heard about this, that will probably be her explanation. But Clyde was sure he actually saw something, and was quite sure he was awake when it happened. It all felt too real to be a manic fantasy.

But how can something as big as that thing be able to withstand strong winds and air pressure while standing on a moving airplane? "It's not real," he whispered to himself. "It's all in your head."

Clyde turned his head toward the window, which still had the sheet over it. He stayed on it for a long, eternal moment. His hand stretched out to it, shaking from hesitation. The only thing Clyde wanted more than anything was to be sure. He had to know what he saw was only a wisps of a dream. He wanted to be proven wrong.

He brought the sheet up.

All the questions and answers of what was real and what was not were, all the logical explanations and reasonings he'd made for himself were tossed away. Clyde became too stunned to react. In fact, he didn't know if he'll survive if he tried to move.

Looking at him, close and personal, Clyde realized it wasn't a man he saw, but a horrible, hideous monstrosity which had attached itself on the glass. It stared deep into Clyde's soul with its pale-yellow eyes, with an almost human face mixed with that of a terrifying bat. Clyde turned away, shutting his eyes tight. "It's not there! It's not there," he repeated to himself. "It's not there!"

He repeated the phrase countless times, hoping it will have the power to make the creature go away. Clyde opened his eyes, and was met with the terrifying reality of the monster.

An intense panic took over Clyde. He felt like screaming, and quickly covered his mouth before doing so. He didn't want to wake his parents or the passengers. He sat up and pressed the button to summon the stewardess. Clyde didn't see, but the monster knew what the boy was trying to do, and slid away from the window. Clyde pressed the button repeatedly until the stewardess arrived.

"May I help you?" she asked politely.

Clyde pointed to the window to the woman of the monster. Just as before his words slipped away from him. It was gone. What is happening? Was he losing his mind? No doubt the stewardess thought so.

"Is there anything wrong?" she asked again.

Uncomfortable silence made the air between them stiff. Clyde glanced at the window once more, not sure of what to make of the situation. "I. . . I'm worried about the storm," he lied.

"Don't worry about a thing, young man. The airliner is weather-equipped and built to withstand severe conditions. This storm will not affect the flight or your safety."

Clyde nodded, and the stewardess was off. He looked out the window as the rain fell heavily than before. Sure enough, at the next crack of thunder and lightning, the monster reappeared on the wing. Somehow the propellor under the wing had caught its attention. It crouched down, reaching its arm under in an attempt to touch the spinning blades.

There was some familiarity about the beast. Clyde began to question what kind of monster has interest in aviation? Then he remembered; a long time ago he and his parents visited a World War II exhibit at aviation museum, where there was a gallery about urban legends around that time. He tried to remember the name. . . Gremlins! The little creatures that snuck on planes to sabotage the engines, making the pilots crash. But this peculiar gremlin was rather large and brutish than the ones he'd seen at the museum, who looked like elves. Clyde can only watch, praying this is just a wild fever dream. The gremlin's occasional glances at his direction made the boy's heart pound against his chest. A little while later it was bored with the propellor. The hulking gremlin walked across the wing, and Clyde kept his eyes on it.

Slowly, methodically, the monster removed one of the metal plates, revealing light and wires underneath.

Clyde had to tell somebody. Not the stewardess, of course. He thought he'd already made a bad impression on her. He tapped his sleeping father on the shoulder, then shook his arm just as the monster dug his claws into the wiring. Howard came to, and just like that the gremlin leaped from the scene, hiding somewhere in the dark.

"Clyde, honey, what is it?" yawned Howard. He noticed his son looking out the window, staring at the wing. "Is the storm bothering you? I think I packed some earmuffs in one of the cases. I just need to sit up and. . ."

"It's not that," said Clyde. He turned to his father, and Howard saw something grim in his eyes, like the boy had seen a ghost. "Dad, I know I've said this before, but. . . I'm seeing something outside."

Howard could only look at him. Neither of them said anything for a long, torturous minute. Clyde trembled in his seat, trying to think of something to say that wouldn't make him sound like a lunatic.

"Clyde. . ." Howard began to say.

"Please, just hear me out," pleaded Clyde. "I know I'll sound crazy, and I know this whole thing will sound ridiculous, but please just listen to what I have to say. Please."

Howard let out a defeated breath after thinking. He gave Clyde a quizzical look, waiting to hear what his son had to say.

"Do you remember the time we went to the aviation museum that one summer? We went to the gallery on urban legends of World War II, remember that? We saw the gremlins, those elves that screw around with the engines so they'll crash." He felt a tremor on his lips. "And I think I'm seeing one right now."

Howard listened just as he promised. He couldn't believe what he heard come out of his own son. How can Clyde make up a story like that, inside an airplane of all places? He was going to tell Clyde about his inappropriate behavior until the boy spoke again, this time with more gravity in his voice.

"I know what you're thinking; you think I'm crazy. I understand that. But dad, please. . . I'm begging you! I need you to help me! I think. . ." He stopped, then lowered his voice. "I think everyone on this plane is in danger!" he whispered.

Lightning flashed outside, which prompted Clyde turn to the window for any sign of the gremlin. Howard pinched the ridge of a nose and let out a bemused sigh.

"Is he out there?" asked Howard. He didn't bother looking at him.

"Not right now. He disappears when he thinks somebody will see him."

How convenient, thought Howard.

"I need you to do me a favor."

"What is it?" Howard asked defeatedly.

"I need you to warn the pilot! Tell him exactly what I told you! Please, can you do that for me? Just this once," the boy pleaded.

Howard thought about telling his son to calm down, to tell him he is having delusions. The sincere look of fear in the child's face put him in a position he did not want to be. Reluctantly, he complied with his son's request. Howard carefully slipped out of his seat, accidentally bumping passed Harold, almost immediately stirring him awake. Clyde stared at his father while he walked down the aisle, then turned to the stormy darkness when Howard spoke to the stewardess.

The gremlin returned, finishing what he started moments before. It ripped open the metal plate above the propellor, tinkering at the wires and plugs. A shocked gasp of air escaped Clyde. He turned to where Howard was. He had entered the cockpit. "Please, for God's sake hurry!" he said under his breath. He turned back to face the gremlin. Just as he did, the gremlin stopped to stare back at him. Their eyes were locked on each other, but somehow the creature had known the boy was afraid of it.

It was becoming too much for Clyde. "Dad, please, come quick!" he yelled, making Harold jump awake on his seat.

"What is all the commotion about?" said Harold.

Not a moment too soon, Howard McBride was accompanied by the pilot. Harold noticed as well, and feared Clyde may have gotten himself into trouble.

"You wanted to see me, young man?" the pilot asked.

"Thank God you're here! There's something out there on the wing!" exclaimed Clyde. He pointed at the window.

The pilot moved through their seats to get a look. Clyde waited for his response. "I don't see anything," said the pilot.

Clyde sat up and moved beside the pilot in front of the window. His eyes shifted back and forth, searching the airplane wing in the cold darkness. Once again the gremlin disappeared without a trace. The metal plate was put back in its original place, as though it was never tampered with.

"I know he's out there," said Clyde.

"What are you talking about?" asked Harold.

"The gremlin. It was here. It hides whenever someone might see him."

Clyde turned to face the adults, who all had blank and confused looks on their faces. Some of the other passengers took notice of the scene happening, murmuring amongst themselves of the strange little boy and his delusions.

"Listen, young man, this is not the time for-" the pilot started to say.

"Please, Captain, you have to understand! I know he's out there, I know he's going to come back when you're not looking, when nobody but me is watching!" he cried out.

"Young man, calm down," the pilot said in a low voice. He glanced back at the passengers, whom were becoming anxious by the frantic child. "Listen," he began to say. "I. . . I know you are terribly frightened, right now. We understand the situation. We've. . . seen the thing you're talking about."

Clyde's face lit up with hope. "You have?" he asked sincerely.

"Yes. He has been a nuisance for a while, but we are trying to get rid of it. The only thing we need you to do is to remain calm. We don't want to alarm the passengers."

"Of course I. . ."

Clyde trailed off. He thought what the pilot had said, the way he said it, then a frown formed deeply on his face. He looked at the pilot with suspicion. He knew the truth just by looking at him. He never seen the gremlin. Clyde bet the pilot didn't believe him.

"I understand," he said in a dark tone.

"We're doing the best we can to make sure everyone on board is safe," said the pilot.

"You can stop now."

"Clyde, please listen to the nice man," begged Howard.

"Oh, I'm listening. Loud and clear. From now on I won't say another word." He sat down in his seat and turned away from the adults. "I'm going to sit quietly and wait for the crash," he said.

Howard became short of breath, nearly fainting. Harold covered his face with his hands, to hide himself from embarrassment. Harold apologized to the pilot for their son's behavior. Clyde listened to the pilot explaining of how a fear of flying can trigger hysterical reactions in some people; he claimed he'd seen these things happen before. Clyde rolled his eyes. The boy's back was turned, although Clyde can feel Harold's cold glare.

"I don't know what has gotten into you, young man, but you're behavior has been completely unacceptable! Now I don't want to hear anymore of this. . . this gremlin nonsense! Do I make myself clear?"

"Very clear," Clyde said without looking at him.

When all had settled, the gremlin returned to the wing, removing the metal plate and damaging the wires and plugs as before. For a moment it stopped what it was doing to see if Clyde was watching, and for the first time since this whole ordeal began, Clyde did not fear it anymore. Instead, all he felt was resentment; for the pilot who talked down to him, for Howard who lied about told the pilot to lie about the gremlin, for Harold who displayed a lack of concern for his own son.

But most of all, he felt hatred for the gremlin, the cause of his misery on this storm-filled night. The gremlin continued to stare at Clyde. It opened its mouth to present its crooked and yellow teeth, like it was grinning.

Clyde understood now. All this time the gremlin was playing a game. The game was to see if Clyde can convince the adults of the gremlin's existence. As far as Clyde can tell, the gremlin had won, and is going to complete its victory by bringing the airplane down with everyone on it.

As his animosity for everything and everyone grew, Clyde wanted the gremlin to send the passengers to their doom, and then they will finally see, too late, that he was right all along. He watched the gremlin do his work. It found a long wire, then tried to stretch it out with force. With one more pull of effort the gremlin tore off the wire, resulting in an explosion of sparks.

The plane wobbled, rocking the passengers. It even knocked Clyde from his inner thoughts. He witnessed stewardesses making her way down the aisle to ease the tension of the startled passengers. Clyde's eyes returned to the gremlin, and the gremlin gazed back. Right there, outside, clear as crystal, and the stewardesses passed it. It had no reason to hide anymore.

Before it returns to complete its disastrous task, it showed its horrid teeth. This time Clyde knew it was a sinister smile.

"No," muttered the boy. "I won't let you."

A new resolve took hold of him. He already realized he couldn't depend on the adults for help. He had to take matters into his own hands. There had to be something on the plane to stop the gremlin, but what? And where would he find it? Suddenly, the pilot stepped out of the cockpit, rushed down the aisle to a nearby stewardess. They were speaking to an elderly couple, probably about the mild turbulence they'd just experienced. Clyde took it as a sign, a door opening to a solution.

Clyde had to make sure the gremlin wouldn't see him. What's to stop him from jumping to the other side of the plane, or jump all the way to the back and land on the stabilizers? He had to be cautious.

He looked over to his parents; Howard had just left his seat to use the lavatory due to the intensity of the turbulence, meanwhile Harold remained slumped in his seat, eyes closed while wearing his headphones. The whole ordeal involving Clyde and the flight had made the man exhausted.

"Dad, can I get a cup of water?" asked Clyde.

Harold gave a look at his son, then sighed. "Alright. Fine. Perhaps I need one, too, I suppose."

He watched his father go to the back of the plane where the water filter was located. Clyde quietly slipped out of his seat until he stepped out into the aisle. He kept his eyes on the stewardess and the pilot. They were still occupied with the elderly couple. He made a beeline for the cockpit, then immediately shut the door behind him.

The boy looked around the room for anything that can help him fight off the gremlin. At the top corner of the windshield he found it - a flare gun, an object that's often used as a distress signal. The plane rocked again, rougher than last time, making Clyde stumble. He began to hear the distressed voices of the passengers, then the pilot as he told everyone to remain calm. He quickly reached for the flare gun.

The door opened.

The pilot entered. He noticed Clyde holding the flare gun. The scorn in the man's eyes told the boy he'd better hurry.

Clyde slipped through the grasp of the pilot, rushed out the door and into the aisle. The passengers only saw a crazy little boy with something brightly-colored and dangerous in his hand. The loud voices and screams had alert Harold and Howard from elsewhere in the plane.

That's when he saw their only son with a weapon in his hand.

"Clyde!" they shouted in fear.

Clyde stood still in the center of the aisle. He opened his mouth to say something, but the pilot had already arrived.

"Young man, you're in trouble!" the pilot told Clyde. He said it with a dark tone, but the boy saw something rewarding in the man's eyes. Fear.

Clyde pointed the gun at the pilot. "Stay back!" he barked.

Harold became silent, not sure if this was a nightmare or reality. He tried to reach for his son, to calm him down, but soon found himself facing the barrel of the flare gun.

Clyde's trembling hands threatened to drop the flare gun, but he forced himself to keep a firm grasp on it. He backed up to his seat, next to the emergency door. He prayed the gremlin hadn't seen what happened and jumped away. The boy sat down and buckled himself with the seatbelt. Slowly his hand reached for the handle of the door.

"Young man, don't you dare. . ." said the pilot.

Clyde still held the flare gun. He wondered why the pilot hadn't done anything to stop him. Maybe he was too frightened, perhaps? He looked to his parents. There was fear and confusion, as well as shock. They silently begged him not to open that door.

He gave one last apologetic look to his parents.

Then he pulled the handle.

It opened so quickly. First there was a door, and then there wasn't. The air became a force to be reckoned with, threatening to pull him off his seat and throw him into the night. Clyde didn't hear the screams, nor did he feel the many arms trying to pull him back in. All he heard was the roar of the storm, the clash of thunder in the distance.

In front of his sight was the gremlin itself.

The gremlin saw him, but it didn't jump away. It stood there, probably momentarily stunned, but stood its ground nonetheless. Clyde stared at it, aimed the flare gun. His glasses were picked up by the strong winds, and his vision became blurry. This can't happen. Not now.

Although his vision was impaired, he recognized the shape of a dark figure on the wing, the shape of the gremlin. It seemed to move, coming right at him.

Clyde straightened his arms and aimed the flare gun. He only had one shot. He paused for a moment, to make sure the gun was aimed at the approached black shape.

He pulled the trigger.

The looming, blurry shape was set ablaze. It stumbled and struggled, and then to Clyde it looked like it fell off the wing instead of jumping away. Clyde had done it. He killed the living nightmare that had haunted him this night. He screamed out into the air, perhaps in primal victory or in immense pain, and as the adults pulled him inside he fainted.

* * *

Clyde came too from the internal darkness. His sense of vision hadn't returned to him yet. Bright light strained his eyes as he tried to open them. He felt himself being strapped on a bed of some kind, people taking him somewhere. Not even his hearing cleared. First there was a loud ringing, then the voices were muted, although he knew those were human voices. The dark cloud that loomed over his senses cleared, and he made out one of the men said.

"This has to be the craziest kid I've ever seen. You know what he's done?"

Although Clyde lacked his glasses he understood what was happening. They landed the plane somehow. He was being carried away on a stretcher, taken to an ambulance. He didn't know where his parents were. Maybe being questioned by the police, perhaps. Maybe they will meet him at the hospital.

The boy understood the consequences. He may have gotten his family in trouble with the airline, and he will be grounded for a very long time, with frequent visits to Dr. Lopez. But in the end it was worth it. Soon his two fathers will understand. . . all the passengers on the plane will understand that he had saved them all from a horrible fate. It was his last thought before he drifted away.


End file.
